


Intermezzo

by noero



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9140302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noero/pseuds/noero
Summary: Their relationship had always been backward like that, needing to turn left before they turn right. They go up just so they can come back down and one step forward for every two steps back. They’d been running in circles so long that they skid the turn when they try to stop. Everything is urgent and feverish.Alternately, the one in which Lance is handsy and Keith just really wants to kiss him.





	

Today Lance has his hand down Keith’s pants, long before their first kiss. They’re in a hallway, tucked in the shadows of the doorway to an unoccupied room. They push at each other, panting, grinding, sweaty, legs tangled, and Keith’s back pressed tight against the wall. One day earlier more than a dozen lives were lost on a small planet where they failed to stop a pro-Galra rebellion. Choosing their battles had become a necessity if not a clean one. They left the morning briefing, awed and disquieted at Allura’s pragmatism about the loss of a single fight. That conviction is a quality Keith finds commendable, at the least of it, but one Lance just can’t wrap his head around. The ensuing argument led them here as a silent plea to just make it all go away, a need for fear to be replaced by want and instinct.

“Hurry,” Keith hisses, grasping onto Lance’s arms. “ _You’re so slow_.”

This is how the bough breaks. Lance grins, the corners of his mouth showing the ghost of tiny dimples. He licks his lips and Keith can’t bring himself to say how stupid it looks because he hates his own fixation on the shape of that mouth. “I’d rather take my time, baby.”

Keith shoves at his chest for that comment, so sickeningly saccharine and absurd coming at Keith from _that_ voice, but Lance is not derailed. He tilts his head forward, just enough that their foreheads touch. His breath fans across Keith’s face and for a second, Keith thinks he will-

Instead, fumbling hands grab at the hem of Keith’s shirt and in another instant he’s pulling at Keith’s pants until they’re bunched around his hips. Keith feels ridiculous when Lance curls his fingers around his erection and he forgets the shape of those wet lips in favor of Lance’s thumb gliding over the head of his cock. He presses a rough finger into the slit and Keith nearly doubles over until his head collides with Lance’s shoulder. He struggles to find an anchor and digs his nails uselessly into Lance’s jacket. They're both breathless, the hard and ragged sounds filling the empty space around them.

Their relationship had always been backward like that, needing to turn left before they turn right. They go up just so they can come back down and one step forward for every two steps back. They’d been running in circles so long that they skid the turn when they try to stop. Everything is urgent and feverish. 

They won’t, Keith thinks, go on dates to movies, or share romantic dinners, or picnics in the park. They won’t tell each other how much they’re in love or think about building a life together. They won’t have anything but the need to touch everywhere that all their thoughtless words won’t reach. 

Lance presses against him, close enough Keith can feel how hard Lance is, pushing against his hip. He jerks his hand, once and then twice, and Keith is close. It doesn’t take long before he arches his back and his head falls back against the wall with a loud, embarrassing and strangled noise. Lance watches him orgasm for the first time with such focus he must aim to memorize it. Somehow, without knowing why, Keith understands without a sliver of doubt that it won’t be the last.

And despite the pull of a momentary bone-deep satisfaction, Keith grounds himself. When Lance leans and nuzzles him - giving a subtle grind of his hips to remind Keith he's still hard and still wants him - Keith turns his head. Lance’s lips fall on his jaw instead and though his face warm and sincere, Keith can’t look at him to see the disappointment and confusion etched on his features. He feels it festering somewhere deep in his own chest all the same. “I’m still mad at you.”

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Keith gets lost in Lance’s smile. Not the boastful smile he usually wears, but the real one. The one that’s a little crooked and makes that cute little crinkle in the corners of his eyes. The one he wears when he and Hunk are sharing an old story from the Garrison or when he’s talking about memories of visiting his family over the holidays. Keith can’t stop staring. Shiro is the only one to take notice. He chuckles at it and Keith flushes. He tries to remember why he's so mad at Lance again.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Pride is a problem for one of them, or maybe both of them, because Keith can’t decide which one of them made this mess. Three days pass and they still haven’t kissed, even when Lance drops to his knees between Keith’s legs while they’re resting together on the training deck. He smirks, warm cheek resting against Keith’s naked cock before licking a long strip from the base to the head, never shy to answer Keith’s hard stare. Shameless at his worst and brazen in his obscenity - Lance truly is a crime against humanity - he makes Keith scrape his blunt nails against the cold metallic ground.

As the last mission gradually receded to the backs of their minds, Keith wondered if the whole thing would prove to be a fever dream, a one-off that they never talk about and maybe for the better. Keith, however, quickly learns that Lance is horny at least eighty percent of the time. Keith drags his gaze up Lance’s frame and that's all it takes to rev him up. Now that he knows Keith is attracted to him, he won't let it go. Lance is on him, time and time again, hands tugging at his belt and bunching his shirt up around his waist.

“Someone’s gonna catch us,” Keith groans.

“N’They won’t,” Lance slurs, stroking Keith while he talks. His face is lit with mischief. “And don’t worry babe, you always come so fast we’ll be done in a hot minute.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Keith moans. “Just shut the hell up.”

Lance takes him in his mouth again, cheeks hollowed out and a string of drool slipping from the corner of his mouth. On impulse Keith grabs a fistful of hair and jerks his hips forward, edging near the back of Lance’s throat where his tongue presses with urgency against the underside of his cock. Lance can handle it and Keith never claimed to be a saint. It pulls unbidden sounds and strained renditions of Lance's name from his mouth and that only seems to further his enthusiasm. It’s over quickly after that, a sputtering in response to the tears forming in the corner of Lance’s eyes.

Lance doesn't wait for reciprocation anymore and something tugs at Keith's heart. He drags himself up and off the floor while Keith still lies boneless and catching his breath. He wipes his mouth off with his sleeve and Keith regrets not reaching to grab his face before he stood. The absence of post-coital warmth bothers Keith more than he imagined it would. Lance smiles, all bravado. “So you ready for another go with the sim now or what, boy wonder?”

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Keith is scared. He doesn’t always like who he is. He’s not sure if he’s human. They’re sitting on the observatory deck and Lance has that face that Keith hates the most. He looks sad. Lonely. Keith reaches over and links their pinkies together. He wants to kiss Lance so bad it hurts.

“Do you even want to go back home?” Lance asks.

Keith doesn’t know how to answer.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

They make it an official routine on a rare day of respite when Lance finds Keith lounging on the couch in the common room. Keith ignores him, in favor of fiddling with his knife, until Lance slides next to him, close enough that their sides touch, and wraps a gangly arm around Keith's waist. "Hunk and Pidge are installing new software downstairs. _Managers_ meeting happening upstairs. All busy for at least an hour."

"And?" 

" _And_ ," Lance pokes Keith's ribs. "I need to work in some cardio and don't feel like hitting the training deck. You game?"

Keith snorts but yeah, he'll play. He situates himself so his back if flush against Lance's chest and Lance's chin settles comfortably in the crook of his neck. Deft fingers slip beneath his waistband and rub him until he's hard. Lance works fast and Keith finds that convenient. Of all his careless qualities, Keith appreciates that Lance knows him well enough by now to understand practicality. Unfastening his pants and shoving away his belt is easy, quick work by now. Using pre-cum to make his job easier, Lance slicks him up real good and teases lower to squeeze his balls. Keith will give credit where credit is due. 

The feather light touch of Lance's mouth gliding across his jaw, just above the collar of his jacket, lights Keith's skin on fire. He thinks to turn his head, just a bit, and he could meet Lance in the middle. 

"Faster," he says instead. 

"You need to learn to enjoy yourself, my good friend." But ever eager to please, Lance does exactly as Keith asks never mind what he says. "Close already, huh?"

Keith grunts, lifting his hips in tune with Lance's hand. His own fingers twitch, digging into Lance's legs that he regrets remain unfortunately concealed in denim. He inches his hands behind him, trying to blindly feel his way up Lance thighs, but it's too late. A skilled flick of the wrist and Lance does him in. Keith realizes only afterward that he came on both his shirt and the couch. He frowns, "We have to clean that up."

Lance ignores him. He is instead looking intently over Keith's shoulder, poking at the spot just below his navel. Fascinated for reasons unknown, Lance smears a spot of semen with his index finger, like the gross moron he is.  

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Lance is stupid. He takes a nosedive straight into a Galra warship and Keith grits his teeth. Pidge is the first one on the com, a plea of both frustration and disbelief, and Hunk is yelling at Keith to do something. Even though he misses. Even though in the end he is fine, Keith just thinks he’d have done the same. 

When they return to the castle Keith tells him he did well. Lance smiles. Pidge and Hunk both look terrified. Shiro looks concerned.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Tonight is the night Keith sees Lance fall apart. After a boring diplomatic mission, Keith finds himself itching. Unleashed adrenaline does strange things to him from time to time. He wanders into Lance’s room to fix it but only finds him crying, curled up in his bed. Without saying a word, Keith sits on the edge of his mattress and lays a hand over his shoulder. They stay like that until Lance calms down and the tears ebb away.

They don’t talk about it, whatever set him off, because Keith doesn’t know how. He instead leans more heavily into the bed and takes his hand off Lance’s arm to wrap around his waist instead. He bends down, nose to Lance’s cheek, without thinking of what he’s doing. 

Lance rolls onto his back and his lips curl up, red cheeks shine with tears in the glowing light. “Hey Keith,” he coaxes, with a tender lilt to his voice. He has that dazed, dumbass expression he gets every time a pretty girl so much as glances in his general direction. Through a colossal amount of willpower, Keith resists the urge to smack him. “D’you want to kiss me?”

“Will that make you feel better?”

Lance holds up three fingers, “Scouts honor.”

Keith has no idea what that means but for his own personal reasons he decides to take it as an affirmative. For all the times Lance has tortured him, he decides to move slow. He kisses the wet skin just below Lance’s eye in a languid motion then pulls back to kiss the corner of his mouth right on that spot he knows he’ll find that adorable little dimple. “Better?”

“No,” Lance pouts, using his vulnerability as a weapon against Keith clearly not beneath him. “I want a real one.”

Keith hums and places his thumb and forefinger on Lance’s chin, tilting his head to the side. He presses a third kiss to his jaw, moving along his jawline with a fourth and fifth until he reaches the space just beneath Lance’s ear. “Now?”

“Nope. Not good enough.”

With a sigh, Keith leverages himself on top of Lance by placing a knee between his thighs and an arm beneath his back. His other hand rests comfortably above Lance’s head, toying with his hair. He leans in and whispers against Lance’s soft lips, “How about this?”

Lance opens his mouth and Keith makes his move. He kisses Lance with abandon, all fiery need and a lack of finesse that Lance doesn’t dare bother to complain about. His heart is pounding against his ribcage and it feels so _good_ that Keith almost forgets to come back up for air. 

“Yeah?”

When Lance’s eyes flutter open, pupils wide in a ring of ocean blue, he looks dizzy. “Not yet. Your technique could use some work,” he says, breathless and tired but clearly trying to emulate one of Shiro’s flight critiques. “You need more practice. Gonna have to try harder, drop-out.”

Keith kisses him once again, shallow this time but fast, his movements tinged with mounting impatience. Lance bites at his bottom lip and Keith is surprised at the noise that comes unbidden from his own throat. Lance threads his fingers through Keith’s hair, damp from his recent shower but soft to the touch. “Keep going.”

“Stubborn,” Keith hums. They’re both open-mouthed now, tasting each other and tiny sounds of pleasure are rolling off Lance’s tongue along with each slide of his mouth. “I like kissing you,” Keith murmurs, “Much better than listening to you talk.”

They breathe against each other, hands exploring each others bodies with freedom they never had outside this level of privacy. Keith is buoyant under Lance’s touch and he relaxes despite the heat coiled in his midsection. 

“Are you going to... Do you want… To, uh, for me… I’m kinda… and I’ve done you several favors already...”

Keith pauses, realizing he’s flattened himself out against Lance’s body and that Lance is rutting against him without an ounce of shame. There's a hopeful lilt to Lance's voice that coils deep in Keith's belly. “Yeah…" he agrees, "Just tell me what you want.”

Turns Lance is quite explicit in what he wants, directing Keith to a bottle of oil in his desk drawer - and god knows where he got it, the text on the bottle is neither Altean or any earth language Keith recognizes - but Keith can roll with the punches. He tells Keith how to touch him and goes so far as to position Keith’s hands where he wants them and when he wants them there. He turns onto his stomach at some point while their tangled together and Keith breathes in deep against the back of his neck. He scrapes his nails across the planes of Lance’s stomach and between his legs to tug at his balls.

Although Lance knows what he wants, he remains somehow docile beneath Keith’s hands and it thrills Keith for reasons he can’t fully fathom. His fingertips buzz over electricity in his veins and the smell of sweat still clinging to his skin. Having Lance beneath him is as exhilarating as the first time he thrust the gears forward in Red’s cockpit. Lance is trusting, obnoxiously so. Dangerously so. Keith slides a palm over the front of his throat and presses a thumb into his pulse to feel it quicken. “You good?”

Lance tilts his head back to look at Keith over his shoulder and it’s softer than before, each layer of that careful mask chipping away with the repeated brush of Keith’s fingertips. “Yeah,” his voice is soft, eerily quiet. “Yeah, I’m pretty good right now.”

With a nod, Keith eases two fingers inside of him. The confusion and eagerness that tinged the edges of their previous trysts is gone, replaced by a wholeness that scares Keith as much as it comforts him. Hard and heavy breaths are coming fast from Lance, the sound reverberating although he buries his face in his pillow. Keith takes his time, picking apart Lance’s pleasure as careful as he can. A twist this way earns him a soft gasp. The other way drags out a rugged groan. He presses deeper, pulling back when Lance flinches. This dance is strange but Keith is fascinated by how Lance’s whole body trembles, back, arms, and legs all shaking. He keeps it up until Lance is moaning and boneless, practically begging for Keith to tear him apart. “ _I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready_.”

Keith doesn’t waste any more time, slathering more lubricant on himself before positioning himself behind Lance. The first thrust misses and Lance whines, the slick friction still enough to send waves of pleasure through Keith. The second attempt is better after Keith lifts his leg slightly, sliding himself in slow just halfway. Then slamming into him.

“ _Keith_ , I-” Lance cries and Keith can’t decide if it’s a warning or invitation. 

“You can handle it, Lance.” Keith rubs small circles across his back, waiting for him to relax. “I got you, OK?”

The last part slips out without Keith’s permission and Lance pushes back against him, moaning into the pressure and grasping with desperation at the sheets. Keith pushes into him again, meeting him halfway, and a moan tears out of Lance with such force that Keith can feel it from inside him. Encouraged, he maintains the angle and finds a rhythm that has Lance practically singing. He keeps at it until the muscles in his stomach quiver near exhaustion and he _aches_ but Lance is pliant and beautiful. Keith kisses him, the back of his neck, his spine, and turns his head to reach for his mouth. 

The angle seems good for Lance, the way he writhes and pleads, but Keith isn’t far off and he’s determined to get Lance off. He snakes a hand around Lance’s waist and pulls them both backward until he’s seated on his knees and Lance is in his lap. “Keep going,” he chides when Lance whines at the loss of the tempo. 

Lance begins to undulate his hips in pace with Keith’s hand as he strokes him. “I wish I could see you,” he mourns and Keith clicks his tongue. This is how Lance wanted it, he reminds him. Not that Keith has any qualms with the arrangement. He rather enjoys the view of Lance's back, the way his muscles clench and twitch with every thrust and jerk. 

They keep the pace for a while longer (somehow) and Keith admires the warm blush that sits on Lance’s brown skin. It's hotter and tighter and with just one more jerk of Keith’s wrist, Lance outright sobs, spilling into Keith’s hand. It's as perfect a sound as Keith has ever heard and keeps going even as Lance goes limp in his arms. He fucks Lance - exactly how he wants - until he’s done. They could live like this, he thinks, a strange place where Keith doesn't remember where he stops and Lance begins.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Keith is happy. Lance is a peaceful sleeper, until he wakes up to complain that Keith drooled all over his chest. Until then, he is warm and comfortable. Lance feels like home. 


End file.
